


Prank King

by Ordinarily



Category: Recess (Cartoon)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Guilt, High School, Injury, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordinarily/pseuds/Ordinarily
Summary: Mikey ends up hurt after a prank goes south and TJ is overcome with guilt.





	Prank King

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody asked for this lol so sorry

His laughter is loud and plentiful, a series of gasping guffaws and guilty giggles, enough to make Spinelli's heart beat a little faster as he runs toward her. She barely has time to register the shit-eating grin plastered to his face as he sprints his way past her, grabbing her arm as he goes and forcing her into step with him.

"Teej!" she cries, "did you do it?"

"Of course I did it! Come on, we gotta get outta here!"

He leads her to a cement ledge that he easily clears, leveraging himself with a palm, while she leaps up to it, pushing off with the ball of her foot and landing squarely in a crouch behind it. They stay low, erratic heartbeats pumping wild out of time and heavy breathing mingling in the October air.  

From the moment senior year began, TJ pledged to make it the best year ever—starting off with pranking every (lame) teacher who had the unfortunate pleasure of teaching final year students. Even in high school, he was known for his pranks, though he pulled significantly less of them what with the loads of half-assed homework taking up his time. This year however, he vowed to change that—even if it landed him in detention for the majority of the year. A small price to pay for giddy exhilaration and a worshiped status among fellow peers. 

There's a loud crash from somewhere in the distance and Spinelli has to put a hand over her mouth to keep from losing it. She looks at TJ from the corner of her eye to see him biting his lip so hard it looks like it's on the verge of bleeding. He's staring at the sky, chest heaving up and down and backwards baseball cap brushing against the concrete behind him. 

"Vince is gonna be so pissed," he says hushed and through laughter. 

“So is Gus,” she replies and when he eyes her she adds, “he had her for History last year. Failed every assignment and aced the class.” 

"Oh shit," whispers TJ. "I knew a lot of people liked her but..."

"She was a bitch to you," finishes Spinelli.

"Exactly."  

"Besides, it’s pretty harmless... nothing a little Febreze can't fix."

"And the class gets the rest of the day off." He wiggles his eyebrows at her. 

There's a voice from somewhere below in the quad, and both teens recognize the nasalization almost immediately. "What the hell did you do?!" 

TJ peaks out from behind their hiding spot, placing a finger over the smirk he's unable to hinder. 

"Oh, don't look so smug," yells Gretchen, but he sees straight through the facade—the corners of her lips are twitching. "You're gonna get in so much trouble for this." 

The boy waves her over to the platform. Gretchen looks around warily before skipping up the steps to the upper part of the quad. 

"I thought you said you needed the formula for a _science project_ ," she says once she reaches them. 

TJ clicks his tongue. "Oh Gretchen, _Gretchen_ ," he says, in a tone of mock pity, "I don't even take science." 

The redhead shakes her head like she’s completely done with her friend's BS—and she is, but far less than she makes it out to be.  

And then there's another cry across the yard, one of 'Detweiler!' so loud and authoritative TJ thinks it belongs to Principal Von. He shrinks a little against the asphalt, before he realizes who's actually calling his name and completely loses it. He pops out over the block, resting his arms over it as he doubles over in laughter, staring at a fuming Vince several metres below them. 

"Aye! Vince! So glad you could make it!" he says through barely contained wheezing.  

The athlete is making his way up the stairs two at a time but TJ can hardly see him through glassy eyes, tears spilling over as he erupts into another fit of cackles. 

"That test was worth a quarter of my grade!" whines Vince. 

"Liar," scolds the other teen. "They don't give tests like that until at _least_ November." 

"Fine, but she was giving a super important lesson, okay?" 

"Okay."

"And you fucked with it. You realize that, right?"

"Oh, come on," replies TJ. "It's our _last_ year, Vince. Don't you wanna make it one to remember? 'Cause you're sure as hell gonna forget all those history dates and formulas."  

Vince gives in then, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Teej."

"Yes!" he exclaims, fist pumping and then placing his palms on the taller boy's shoulders. "You won't regret this." 

“I better not,” says the athlete, but he's grinning that dimpled smile of his and TJ mock salutes him. 

And so the group watches from their platform, as chaos ensues in the school, and more and more classes pile out from the side exits. 

"Jeez, Teej, how big _was_ that stink bomb?"

"Not nearly big enough for this many people to be evacuating." TJ turns to the group, worrying his bottom lip. But then his eyes are shinning and he's grinning like a madman. "Oh man, I'm going to be  _praised_ for this."  

"Did you follow the exact formula I sent?" asks Gretchen, eyeing the school warily.

"Fifty millilitres of ammonia, five match heads, bleach—" Tj recites.

"Bleach?!" Gretchen screeches in alarm. "TJ, it said _not_ to mix bleach! Do you even read directions? Bleach combined with ammonia could create a highly lethal gas!" 

"Why would they list an ingredient you're _not_ supposed to add? How does that make sense?" he shrieks back, hurried and panicked and defensive.  

"Aw jeez," says Spinelli, looking back over at the school. "You guys see Mike or Gus?"

"Gus spotted!" says Vince, pointing at the far side of the school. "I think he's looking for us."  

“Oh man, oh man, this is not good,” says TJ, voice wavering and pitchy. He hops back over the cinderblock, making his way down the stairs of the quad.

“Where are you going?” yells Vince.

“Gotta find Mikey!” he calls back, skipping the last step and sprinting to the building. 

It takes him all of two seconds to pull open a side door when the principal walks out, nose turned up and scowl prominent. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I—inside. I forgot something.”

Principal Von sneers down at him. “You’re not going anywhere, young man. Those fumes are toxic.”

“But—“

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

TJ takes his hat off. “Sir you don’t understand. My friend is in there.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you pulled a stunt like this.”

“I _didn’t_ —“ the teen starts. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

“You know, Detwiler, frankly, I’ve had enough of your shit. Aren’t you a little too old for pranks? Middle school was a handful in it of itself, but you’re a senior now. You’re eighteen. You—“

TJ steps back as Von towers over him, all long strides and threatening tones. Guilt is gnawing at his conscience and suddenly he’s too hot in his jacket and Mike’s still inside and everything’s going to shit and— 

He’s inside.

“Kid—!”

He’s not listening. Mikey was in the bathroom he just knows it. He has set times to take a dump—TJ knows that for a _fact_ —and the bathroom next to Miden’s is always empty. 

Shit.

Shit!

He sprints through the halls, covering his nose and mouth with the red baseball cap and calls out for Mikey, though the sound is muffled. He pushes open the bathroom door and sure enough, a discarded water bottle lays limp on the floor. Next to it, also laying limp, is Mikey. TJ struggles to get him up one-handed, so he lowers his hat and quickly gets Mikey’s arm over his shoulder, hurrying to drag him out of the fog.  

He holds his breath and tries to cover Mikey’s nose and mouth with his hat, but it gets too complicated so he abandons the hat all together, opting for getting out of there as quickly as he can. It proves to be difficult because, yeah, TJ works out sometimes, but Mikey is _buff_. He’s bigger and taller in general, but he’s also been training religiously ever since some assholes called him fat in the eighth grade, and muscle—relaxed as it may be—is _heavy_. 

TJ strains to drag him closer to the exit—he can literally see the doors—but his throat burns and his lungs ache and his eyes water. His limbs give out and he goes toppling down to the linoleum floors, sending Mikey crashing down with him.  

*** 

When TJ wakes up, there’s an annoying monitor beeping incessantly in his ear. “Whatever that is can you please make it shut the fuck up?”

There’s a laugh at his side, one he’s familiar with. He heard it earlier today. He knows, because everything he says and does is exclusively with the goal of hearing it. He smiles. 

Spinelli’s standing next to him, tears brimming her eyes. “You know you really fucked up this time?”

He looks down at himself. The bed sheets are white. The walls are white. The floor is white. The monitors are white.  

It’s suffocating. 

And when he looks back at her, she feels like the only breath of fresh air in the room so he keeps his gaze locked on her and her pretty red dress (she’d probably kill him if he ever told her that) and old leather jacket. When she outgrew the one from elementary, her dad had gifted her his—you know, from back in the day. Vintage and what not.  

“Is Mikey okay?” 

Spinelli is quick on her feet but TJ’s known her too long. There’s a flash of hesitation. “Yeah, he’s in the other room. Everyone else is there too. I think he woke up a little while ago.” 

TJ nods. He wants to go see him but his body doesn’t cooperate. And then he feels it—he’s scared. But Theodore Jasper Detweiler doesn’t _get_ scared, so he throws the covers off himself and marches his ass toward the door.  

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Spinelli’s in front of him in an instant, blocking his path.

He gives her a look. “To go see Mike.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says, pushing him back to the hospital bed. “Sit your ass down.” He’s about to protest when she cuts him off again. “First of all, you need to wait for the doctors to check in on you. Second of all, those hospital nightgowns don’t cover shit.” 

Point taken.  

Where’s his hat? He feels so empty without his hat. 

“I know it's not much, but I brought you something,” she tells him.

Is it his hat? He hopes it’s his hat.

It’s his hat! “God, Spin, you’re the best.”

“I know,” she replies, shrugging the hat over his hair. He straightens it out. “No, no. I put it that way for a reason. You’re a gangster, see?” she explains, turning the hat sideways. 

“I look like a wannabe.” 

“You are a wannabe.”

“Touché.”

There’s a moment of silence where they grin at each other and then TJ grows serious again. “For real, is he okay?”

Spinelli sighs. “They’re not sure. Still running tests on him. They think he’ll probably end up with some long-term breathing condition, but otherwise he seems fine.” 

“God,” mumbles TJ, sitting back on the bed. “This is all my fault.” 

Spinelli bites her lip. “You went back for him. That counts for something.”

“It wouldn’t have to count for anything if I wouldn’t have made the bomb in the first place.”

“You couldn’t have known—“ 

“I _am_ too old for pranks,” he insists. "I’ve been… acting like a child.”

“Whoa, hey, where’s all this coming from?”

“I’m eighteen, Spin. I drive. I’m applying to college. I can’t... I can’t be doing this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? This has always been you. You’re the class clown... always been a trouble maker.”

“Well, maybe it’s time for a change.” There’s a tone of finality in his voice that makes Spinelli press her lips together. 

“Oh, hey, you’re up,” Gus blurts, intruding from the doorway. The silence is palpable. 

“Hey, yeah. How’s Mikey?” 

“He’s alright. I’ll call you a doctor.” 

***

Mikey has trouble breathing. And he will for awhile. Possibly forever. TJ is healthy but miserable. 

“Teej, come on, you gotta stop beating yourself up,” says Spinelli, lying on his bed, throwing a baseball up in the air and catching it when it comes sailing back down.

He paces. “Spin, I... I can’t. I could’ve killed him!”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could’ve. I’ve messed up a lot but never this bad. I feel so... so...”

“Guilty?”

He pales. Swallows. “Yeah.” 

“You’ll make it up to him.”

TJ shrinks, sinking to the foot of his bed. “I dunno.” Spinelli throws the ball at him. He catches it. “I think I’m just scared he won’t forgive me this time.” He throws it back at her.

“Have you apologized yet?” He shakes his head. “Maybe that’s a good starting point.” 

He nods, falling back horizontally across his bed, and moves Spinelli’s sock-clad feet to his lap. He trails his hand over her leg absentmindedly, the other behind his head. “Gotta make it up to him,” he mumbles.

***

The week Mikey comes back to school consists of:

“Hey, Mikey, need a hand with that?” 

“Let me get that for you, Mike!”

“I got you a cupcake from the caf, Mikester. Denise makes them with cream frosting, ugh, they’re to die for.”

“Gee, thanks, TJ,” says Mikey, without a trace of resentment. Honestly, he’s never been in higher spirits. The sporadic coughing doesn’t appear to bother him all that much, though it kicks TJ in the throat each time.

Vince has been giving him dirty looks for days. 

Spinelli, light of his life, joins them at the picnic table with her own tray of food. “I swear, the lunches here are getting progressively worse.”

Gus raises his soda in mock toast. It’s funny, because bologna on white has been his lunch every day since the fourth grade. 

Gretchen shivers beneath a sweater vest, dropping a comment about losing their go-to lunch spot in the quad soon. There are only so many days TJ’s jacket and Spin’s beanie can get them through. Vince replies with something about improved heart rate increasing blood flow and the two launch into a health driven debate. 

Spinelli reaches over to steal a fry from TJ’s bundle, asking him quietly how he’s holding up. He chances a glance at Mikey who’s started up a conversation with Gus about the current Shakespearean novel being read in his English class. Gus nods politely. “Dude, I’m a wreck.” He shakes his leg, letting her see just how frazzled he is over this and she puts a hand on his knee. “Every time I try to apologize, he derails.”

“Hence the cupcake?" 

“Maybe I should’ve gotten Denise to frost ‘I’m sorry’ on it.”

“Okay, psycho,” she says loud enough for only him to hear, and then addresses Mikey before TJ can even form the next sentence. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

He nods, grinning. “I’m okay, Spin, honestly. Glad to be out of the hospital. You think the food here is bad.”

She smiles so genuinely TJ has to wonder. 

Then Mike looks at him, eyes wide. “Did you end up get caught?”

Vince and Gretchen go quiet and the gang exchanges looks. TJ is quick. “Oh yeah. Managed to talk myself out of suspension though.”

“You da man.” He points finger guns and for a moment, TJ feels like everything’s okay again. But then Mikey starts coughing—hacking, is probably a better word—and his stomach twists. 

“God, Mike, I’m so sorry.” The boy in question shakes his head dismissively because it’s about all the response he can muster and TJ doesn’t wait for a clearer one. He doesn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily. He gets up, running his hands through his hair, and storms off, profoundly upset with himself. 

Gretchen offers Mikey water and he drinks, trying desperately to stop wheezing. When he finally does, he says to the group, “he doesn’t seriously blame himself, does he?”

Vince is the first to protest. “What do you mean? It _was_ his fault.”

Mikey is insistent. “No way.”

“He’s impulsive. He doesn’t think.”

“You say that like we haven’t been friends with him since kindergarten,” interjects Spinelli.

“Yeah,” Vince retaliates, “exactly. Kindergarten. Time for him to grow up, man.” He stands up then, declaring he’s got some extra homework to finish and he’ll see the group later. He pats Mikey once on the back and picks up his tray; half his lunch still on it doesn’t go unnoticed.

***

The next day, TJ shows up without his hat. 

Or his jacket, or his converse. And he looks like he actually ran a comb through his hair for the first time... ever, maybe. He’s swapped out his usual footwear for Oxfords, but the jeans and white tee seemed to have passed the test. Spinelli is at a loss.

“What did you _do_?”

“Ugh, homework. All night.”

Spinelli turns a frightening shade of white. That’s not even what she meant, but she’s too dumbfounded to clarify.

He holds up a set of notebooks and pulls out a pack of stapled paper. “Do you think Mr. McNally will take off marks for going over the word count?”

Her jaw feels sore and it takes her a moment to realize that it’s been hanging unhinged. 

“Also, here’s that twenty I owe you,” he adds, handing her a bill. 

“Teej—“

He checks his watch. “Ah, shoot. I’ll catch you later. I’m gonna be late.”

And then he takes off but Spinelli is still reeling over the fact that TJ is wearing a watch. She’s left standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot as the final warning bell goes off. 

 

He keeps up the antics for weeks. He lets Mikey riff poems off him, actually _reads_ the classics so he knows what he’s talking about when he offers him advice, carries around a second inhaler for him at all times, and keeps bringing him cafeteria cupcakes. In turn, TJ now does his homework— _thoroughly_  and _adequately_ —and dresses like… well… Spinelli has to admit, he dresses _nice,_ is in bed before ten every night, and cut out salt from his diet. The pranks have stopped altogether, which is the _only_ thing she could have foreseen out of this whole debacle. 

She should have known better. When TJ commits… he _commits._ He’s nothing if not loyal.

“I feel like I lost my best friend,” says Gus at her locker. TJ and Mikey have been spending so much time together lately, the rest of the group has gone a bit overlooked.

She slams it shut. “I know the feeling, pal.”

“Since when is TJ so interested in poetry anyway? That was me and Mikey’s thing. Sort of. Whatever. The point is, I’m the one who listens to his metaphors.”

Spinelli can’t say she understands, but she agrees. She misses her best friend, too. 

“Come on, Gus,” she says, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “It’s you and me, now.”

“Should I take offence?” asks Vince from behind them. They whirl around, still linked to find that Gretchen isn’t too far either. She maneuvers her lanky body through the sea of students before finally giving up with niceties and stomping her way over.

“Curtesy is dead,” she offers when she reaches them. “So what’re we gonna do about TJ?”

“Why should we do anything?” Vince counters. “His grades have never been higher, he’s—quite frankly—never been _nicer_ , and Mikey got a new literature buddy. Sounds like a win to me.”

“While I agree that he now does have a substantial likelihood of getting into college, I have no idea who he is. Yesterday, we spent three hours after school doing calculus. He’s actually quite deft.” 

Everyone turns to Gretchen who adjusts her glasses and sniffs.

Spinelli makes a gesture of agreement. “It’s like he turned off his fun switch.”

Vince seems to consider this. “Look, this could be really good for him. But… I gotta say, I miss him too. Okay, let’s go get Teej back.”

It’s when Vince catches up with him on the track field in gym class that he realizes just how bad it’s gotten. For one, TJ can actually keep up with him. Oh, the wonders of a diet plan. Vince has to remind himself he’s supposed to reject TJ 2.0.

The gang needs the old him.

“Wow, you seem to be doing good for yourself,” he starts breezily.

“Ah, yeah. Thank you. I dunno. Something needed to change, y'know?”

“Are you sure this is what you want, though? I don’t think Mikey will mind if you start wearing your cap again.”

“Oh, I didn’t do it for Mikey. You were right. I’ve been acting the same way since elementary school… It’s time I grew up a little.”

“And… growing up means Shakespeare’s Sonnets?”

TJ offers a smile. “That may have been for Mikey, yeah. But we got a lot closer over the last few weeks. It’s cool.”

“I love Mikey as much as any of us… but, you know, we miss you, Teej.”

“What do you mean? I’m still me.”

“…When’s the last time you made out with someone in the locker room?”

TJ lets out a startled laugh. “I don’t have to do that anymore. Besides, college applications are soon. I’ve got other stuff to focus on.”

“Sure, but… You know, we were all kind of counting on you to make this a year to remember…”

He wrinkles is nose. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Vince cracks. “Why ya doing this to yourself, Teej?”

“You know, Mikey wasn’t the only one who got hurt.” TJ slows to a stop, suddenly serious. “Other kids ended up in the ER, too.”

“I...” Vince doesn’t really know how to argue that. “You don’t have to become a square, you know? No pranks doesn’t mean no fun."

The shorter boy’s shoulders slouch. “When my folks saw the A on my English test… they just looked so _proud._ They really want me to get into ESU and for the first time I’ve actually got a chance. I’m just… being what everyone wants me to be."

Vince crosses his arms, suddenly itchy. “Have you spoken to Spinelli recently?"

Tj flinches at the mention of her and then again at an abrupt, “Detweiler! LaSalle!”

They start running again, this time in silence.

***

He leaves a message when it goes to voicemail, something TJ doesn’t think he’s ever done in his entire life. 

It goes like this: “Hey, Spin. Um. Could you call me when you get this? Or just text or something, whatever. I just… we haven’t spoken in a bit and… that’s on me, I’m sorry. I… Call me back.”

He cringes at himself and presses the end call button, smacking himself with his phone. _So lame._

He sets about doing his homework, hoping he won’t be falsely accused of plagiarizing again. Seriously, McNally hadn’t even _read_ his report. 

His red hat, hanging off the edge of his bed post catches his attention and he’s moving before he realizes it. 

He changes outfit twelve times.

He has no idea who he’s supposed to be. He only owns, like, five shirts, and they all still remind him of old TJ.

Eventually, he ends up sitting on his bed, clad in boxer briefs and defeat. Maybe he should go shopping. 

It’s at that moment Spinelli calls. “Is everything okay? You never leave messages.”

“I—“ TJ starts. “Yeah, I—No. Not really. Do you wanna go shopping with me?”

“What, now?"

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up in ten.”

“Ugh. Yeah, okay. See you.”

They have, realistically, about an hour and a half before the mall closes. That’s enough time for TJ to completely reinvent himself. Right?

Spinelli climbs in the car, wearing an Iron Maiden tee under a jean jacket, and a messenger bag strapped over her shoulder. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“I hate shopping,” she tells him.

“I know,” he says, biting back a smile as she throws her bag in the backseat. He gives a wave to her parents who are standing at the den’s window and drives off.

“So, like, out of ten, how bad do your folks want us to date?”

“Oh, like a twenty-five. They’re always asking about you.”

He wanted to be sly about this, but TJ can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Mine too,” he laughs.

It’s quiet for a bit, until Spinelli finally asks, “where’s your hat?”

“Where’s your jacket?” he shoots back.

“What, you don’t like denim?”

“I like denim,” he replies, and has to stop himself before he adds  _especially on you._

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like your hat.”

TJ glances at her. She knows that’s not it. 

He pulls into the mall parking lot—in truth, they could have walked but it’s getting darker sooner now and ever since he got his license he can’t help but think it’s just more convenient. (And not because he just likes the independence of driving a car… not his car… but still.)

“Why are we here?” asks Spinelli, like she’s been holding back the entire car ride. 

“Needed a place to make out. Library was full.”

Spinelli hits him. 

“Ow! Jeez, okay! I need some new clothes.”

“This better be a socks and tees kind of deal.” His parking is smooth and Spinelli looks at him when he doesn’t answer. “What’s goin’ on, Teej? You haven’t worn that shirt since middle school. I can’t believe it still fits.”

TJ looks down at himself. He never should have bought polos. They don’t suit him. 

“Which is why I need new clothes,” he answers.

Spinelli doesn’t look like she buys it for a second, but she gets out of the car with him anyway.

***

He slings open the curtain to the change rooms, sporting a black trench coat over a button-up. 

“I like the shirt. Coat’s gotta go, Neo.”

“Aw, come on, Spin. It’s classy.”

“You look like a school shooter. Get the flannel and the bomber jacket. Let’s go."

TJ begins to panic. Is that what he would wear? ‘Cause he’s really feeling the trench coat for Golden Boy Teej. Maybe he should start going by Theodore. Theo’s pretty cool, right?

The way Spinelli speaks is so sure, so confident, so matter-of-fact, though, that he reconsiders. “How do you know?” he asks.

“How do I know what?”

“The flannel and the jacket, how do you know?”

“I’ve been friends with you my whole life. I could probably live as you for a week and no one would know the difference. Except, you know, boobs and stuff.” She shoves her hands in the pockets of her black jeans and shrugs at him.

He looks scared to move.

Then, Spinelli walks over and holds him by the shoulders. “You can do your homework and be more cautious and carry Mikey’s inhaler around with you, but you don’t gotta change your whole personality, Teej. Wear your hat and your jacket and your converse, and your watch too, if you want, but everyone likes this TJ perfectly fine… And… if you like this TJ, too, you don’t gotta be anyone else.”

TJ shuts his eyes tight. 

“Mikey isn’t friends with you because you listen to his poetry or bring him cupcakes. He’s friends with you because you stood up for him when kids were mean and went to see Hamlet with him when Gus got sick and pushed him to go talk to that guy he liked. What’s the point in having people like some weird, too-good-to-be-true version of you? We like you: stupid plans and all.” He grabs for her waist and draws her in, hugging her tight. “Be whoever _you_ wanna be, okay?”

He nods in her shoulder.

***

The next day TJ finds her at her locker. She looks him up and down. Converse, jeans, a button-up, his jacket, his hat, and—

“You’re wearing the watch!”

"It kinda grew on me.”

“You look great,” she tells him.

“Thanks. I had a great stylist,” he replies, smirking at her.

“That’s not what I meant,” she tells him, unable to turn away from the absolute light radiating from him.

_He looks so happy._

Gus and Mikey walk through the halls together again and TJ waves when he sees them. They wave back and head to class.

“And,” TJ punctuates, pulling two bags of chips from his bag. “There’s one more thing I wanted to change.”

“Wow, look at you. A new man.”

“Well… _someone_ told me I should be whoever I want to be, so…” He hands her the bag of BBQ. “Do you wanna see a movie with me after class?”

“Yeah, of course. I know Vince has been wanting to see Dawn & Dark 2.”

“I…” TJ gives a small smile. “I meant just the two of us.”

Spinelli peers up at him, cocking her head to the side. “Yeah, sure, um…”

TJ laughs. He’s sweating. “What I’m trying to ask is, will you go out with me, Spinelli?”

“Well, since you brought me my favourite chips…"

He fist pumps the air, whispering, “I knew that would work!”

“I can only be bribed so much,” she warns, but the corners of her mouth are tugging upward.

The bell rings and she kisses his cheek, scampering off to class with the already opened bag.

"Those were for the movie!" he yells after her.

"You're buying me popcorn!" she yells back.

*** 

TJ becomes a B student. He applies to SDC instead of ESU, settling on a business major. With some help from Gretchen, he pulls an A- in math, enough to get him in.

The rest of the year is spent planning (safer) pranks: whoopee cushion under the teacher’s chair (a classic), a hallway full of cups of water (hilarious), a hallway full of balloons (the popping makes it marginally better), a hallway full of post-it notes (expensive and redundant but very worth it), plastic wrapping Principal Von’s office (screw you!), and finally, (the one TJ is most proud of) a string-laser maze in the cafeteria. 

They even manage to convince Gretchen to ditch once in a while to hit the mall or go see a movie, or try that new pizza place down the street. They play Truth or Dare until they get kicked out and switch to Would You Rather the next time they visit. Except, they still get kicked out because it always ends in a screaming match.

_(“WHY would you pick SODA over MARSHMALLOWS?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???” And that’s levelheaded Gretchen.)_

Things aren’t much different with Spinelli. She’s started wearing her hair down, and TJ’s gotta say… he might be in love. 

Their first kiss was kind of lame though. He walked her home from the movies and kissed her on her doorstep—just because he thought that’s how it was supposed to go—and Spinelli made fun of him for it, before pushing him through her front door. They spent the rest of the night playing Call of Duty and, later, more than made up for one awkward kiss. 

Overall, they could have done worse. TJ considers it a victory. 

The only thing left is to ask her to prom, and that’s his biggest plan yet. 

She dances her way over to him now at Gus’ house party, mouthing the lyrics to a Panic! At the Disco song. He pulls her in close, twirling her. 

It’s an awkward time in the year. They’re close to graduation, but they’re still waiting on acceptance letters and studying material for the final exam. Still, they can see the end of the tunnel now.

Spinelli smiles at him, pulling a safe distance away and taking the stool next to him. “Are you having fun?”

He nods. “I’m still waiting on Mike to sing karaoke. _Then,_ it’ll be a party.”

She makes a sign of agreement. 

Eventually the gang reunites in the kitchen, clawing at bowls of munchies and sipping cheap beer. 

“I’d like to propose a toast,” announces Vince. “To the best year ever."

“I second that!” a very tipsy Gretchen yells, staggering a little as everyone clinks their bottles together. “Woo!” She misses everyone else’s bottles altogether and downs the rest of her own carelessly. 

“Okay, Gretch,” Gus apprehends, setting down his own can. “Let’s get you upstairs, yeah?”

Gus nods at the group passively while Gretchen whines about _wait I very much like this song, come dance with me Gus!_

He steers her away protectively, only a few inches taller than her already impressive height. 

“And then there were four,” says Mikey.

“Three,” Vince corrects, pointing out where karaoke was just set up.

“See ya, guys!”

“I gotta hand it to ya, Teej,” Vince says after Mikey’s gone, “you pulled it off.”

“Year’s not over,” mentions TJ. 

“Nah, you got it in the bag. Hit me up when you plan the prank for graduation.”

TJ clicks his teeth together. “You got it.”

Vince claps him on the back and strides over to the basketball team playing slapjack in the corner.

“And then there were two,” Spinelli says lowly.

TJ wraps an arm around her.

“How does it feel knowing your legacy will live on for generations to come, oh great Prank King?”

“Honestly, pretty good.” He grins, thinking of the way the freshman ogle him the halls. “…I have to admit, though, I’m ready for change.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.”

He shoots her a look and she grins pompously. “I just want something different, you know? Everyone looks and acts the same here… I—that’s why I like our friends so much. Everyone is just… themselves.”

“You think we’ll still see each other after grad?”

“You think any of these guys would throw years of friendship away?"

Spinelli beams. “You grew up a lot this year, Teej.”

And then, attention-shunning, PDA-hating, only-mildly-sober Spinelli kisses him full on the mouth, right then and there in front of everyone.

“Will you go to prom with me?” she asks as she pulls away.

“You really ruin everything, you know that?”

Realization crosses her expression before smugness settles in. “I beat you to it, huh?”

“How about we just keep kissing and forget it happened?”

Her eyebrow quirks like she’s testing him, but then she shrugs and yanks him by the collar. “Fine by me, wuss.” 

TJ is about to protest before she smashes her lips against his once again and suddenly, there’s no banter, no music, no party; the world doesn’t exist. 

It’s just him and Spinelli and the feeling that everything's going to be okay.

***


End file.
